Lust becomes something more in the course of one amazing night.
If it wasn’t for his fingerprints on my soul, let alone those on my body, I would have thought that Theo had just been the most deeply sensual dream.
I was always interested in meeting new lovers and relished the chase until I caught them. My sex drive had gone through the roof since I’d broken up with my long-term boyfriend, but while I presented this devil-may-care façade, deep down I suspected that I really wanted to be in another relationship.
Anyway, I liked them tall, pretty, educated, with good hands. I knew by instinct and experience how they’d be in bed before I undressed them. Big hands equalled great sex to me. Theo fitted the profile perfectly. He was tall, gorgeous, younger than I was… and those hands were huge. He was over from Australia on business and clear about only wanting some fun, NSA. That suited me fine; I was the queen of no strings attached. Well, except for those I used in light bondage.
I met him online, and he came across as charming and erudite. His conversations had just the right touch of little boy lost. I liked his photos, his words. I wanted him. We arranged to meet in Islington for a drink. Predictably, I was running late. I texted him and asked him to tell me a story while he was waiting. He wrote about himself as Jack holding the magic bean, waiting to see what happened. It made me laugh and drive a little faster.
I walked through the door of the pub and saw him, reading his paper. He smiled and my knickers got damper. He was prettier in the flesh and his hands looked so good. We kissed as we exchanged greetings. I was sure he could feel the same small jolt as we touched. My nipples were straining against my bra and it was all I could do not to undress him.
He went and got me lemonade and then sat close and breathed me in. It was intoxicating. “You like my scent?” I asked.
“It’s not your perfume, it’s your smell,“ he replied, “and I’m stunned by it.” I was stunned too, my body reacting so strongly I thought I would faint. “I lived with a girl for six years but I never grew to like her smell,” he said.
“How strange you lasted so long,” I said. I ached to touch him so I simply reached out and did.
I knew that the waiting can often be the best part, but not with him. With him, everything would be good. It terrified me; if he had suggested getting married there and then, the only answer I could have given was yes. This from Miss NSA! My hands started to shake. His did too.
“Shall we go?”
“Let’s,” he said.
Instead of going straight back to mine, I drove round to my friend’s. I needed them to give me a sanity check. Was I wrong about this guy? How can you completely trust someone you’ve only just met? Was my pussy in charge of my brain?
Who was I trying to kid? I wanted to show him off.
As we parked, I turned to him and fell silent. I took his face in my hands and slowly licked his lips, then kissed him. Oh God I needed to feel him in me.
His eyes were flashing as he smiled. “You kiss well, but I knew you would.”
“So do you,” I replied. We both knew it was just a matter of time.
My friends all talked, but I didn’t listen; we made excuses to go outside and kissed like teenagers. It was fun. He smudged my lipstick and I ruffled his hair. Everyone could see and wondered why I was delaying the inevitable. I invited him home, also giving him the option to be dropped somewhere. I still couldn’t completely let go of the game playing.
The drive home seemed to be so short and soon he was prowling around looking at my books, pictures, asking questions about my family history. I usually never shared anything other than the mundane and never asked questions of anyone I slept with, but I did with him. I wanted to know him. He answered everything while he started to stroke my neck, my legs. Then he took off his shoes. All the time we were kissing. Then, it was as if we had woken from a trance and the hunger that had been building all night erupted. Within minutes I had him naked and just sat there, gazing at his body. He was lush. His cock was hard and he was perfect. Shoulder length light-brown hair, blue eyes and a mouth made just to fit mine.
Our breathing was rapid and shallow and I thought it would be possible to come just from him looking at me as if he wanted to devour me. He ran his fingers over my lips and then swooped to kiss me. His kisses bruised my mouth, the slight growth of beard scratched me painfully. The kisses were so large we could have climbed inside them. I let down my walls and invited him in.
“Bite me” I said.
“OK” he answered. Down he bit, making me gasp.
“Fuck me,” I said.
“OK” he replied.
He slipped two fingers into my c**t, removing them to taste me. I bent my mouth towards his hand and tasted myself as I licked his fingers.
“Love me,” he said.
“I’m afraid.”
“That’s OK. I’ll look after you,” he responded.
“I don’t know how,” I wailed.
“Yes you do,” he said, driving three then four fingers into my body as he crushed his weight down on me. As I opened my legs and my mouth, I opened my heart and he poured in. I licked his body and stroked him all over. I whirled the head of his cock in my mouth as I pulled on his balls. He groaned. I rimmed him and loved how he smelt, how he tasted. When I went to finger his arse, I just raised an eyebrow in question. “I want everything,” he said.
“I want you,” I said. His hand was up to the knuckles in my pussy and I was gushing everywhere, we smiled and kissed. We kissed and fucked, and fucked and kissed all night. We were dirty and tender and yet so stunned at our good fortune. Miss and Mr NSA could feel the strings twining round their hearts. We whispered to each other, as the bonds grew stronger. We were both feeling safe in our openness, knowing it was finite. We fell like gods from Olympus and fucked like mortals about to die. I cried as I came, he cried at the beauty of it, we fell in love for a night and it was enough.
I dropped him at the station in the morning. He was off to Paris then home. I ran my fingers over my swollen mouth with pride. I wore a top that day showing the bruises he had left. I had survived falling in love and it was fantastic. If it wasn’t for the bruises, it could have been the most perfect dream.
